They’re a very
frail people and I was surprised it had taken that
long for one of ‘em to die in our custody.
—Pfc. Damien Corsetti, Military Intelligence, Bagram
If the FBI had felt that there was a case to
answer for, they wouldn’t have taken me into Bagram
where I was held, heard the sounds of a woman
screaming next door, had me hogtied and threatened
to send me to Egypt in order to get me to sign this.
—Moazzam Begg,
Now 2006 July 28
25/02/08 " PopMatters"
-- -- In December
2002, a 22-year-old Afghan taxi driver named Dilawar was picked
up and delivered to the Bagram Air Force Base prison. Five days
later, he was dead. Sgt. Thomas Curtis, one of the Military
Police at Bagram, remembers, “There was definitely a sense of
concern because he was the second one. You wonder, was it
something we did?”
As detailed in Alex Gibney’s
devastating documentary, Taxi to the Dark Side, Dilawar’s
demise was officially termed a homicide, like the first detainee
to die at Bagram,
Habibullah. Captured by a warlord and handed over to the
U.S. just days before Dilawar, Habibullah as deemed “an
important prisoner,” hooded, shackled, and isolated,
periodically beaten for “noncompliance.” Autopsies showed that
Dilawar and Habibullah suffered similar abuses, including deep
bruises all over their bodies; according to the Army coroner,
Dilawar suffered “massive tissue damage to his legs… his legs
had been pulpified.” And yet, despite initial concerns among the
guards and interrogators at Bagram over an investigation,
instead, the officer in charge of interrogation at the prison,
Captain Carolyn Wood, was awarded a Bronze Star for Valor and,
following the Iraq invasion in 2003, she and her unit were sent
to Abu Ghraib.
Methodically, relentlessly,
Gibney’s Oscar-nominated film assembles stories, evidence, and
testimony from witnesses and experts (its deliberate structure
recalls that of Charles Ferguson’s No End in Sight, both
films suggesting that, if the Bush Administration had not
already put in place legal protections, more than one member
might be subject to criminal charges). The many decisions and
oversights that produced the “enhanced interrogation techniques”
that would be used at Abu Ghraib, Guantánamo, and other sites
have several points of departure, each chilling in its own way.
Not least among these is the pronouncement by Dick Cheney that
motivates Taxi‘s title, made during an appearance on
Meet the Press during the week after 9/11. Describing
imminent changes in interrogation policies, the vice president
asserted,
We have to work sort of the
dark side, if you will, spend time in the shadows in the
intelligence world. A lot of what needs to be done here will
have to be done quietly, without any discussion, using
sources and methods available to our intelligence agencies,
if we’re going to be successful. That’s the world these
folks operate in. It’ll be vital for us to use any means at
our disposal, basically, to achieve our objective.
This working of the “dark side”
would be both notorious and secret, planned and haphazard,
illegal and, in some instances, calculated to toe a seeming
legal line. Above all, the film argues, the work was instigated
and often overseen by military officers and administration
officials, who created a “fog of ambiguity, coupled with great
pressure to bring results,” such that young, untrained soldiers
were following orders that were not spelled out. Chief among
these sources of confusion is the January 2002
torture memo” written by
John Yoo, then deputy assistant attorney general in the
Office of Legal Counsel, advising the suspension of the Geneva
Conventions in cases deemed appropriate by the president.
Taxi describes the memo as giving “legal cover for the CIA
and Special Forces to embark on a secret program of previously
forbidden interrogation techniques,” including the use of dogs,
nudity, stress positions, sleep deprivation and waterboarding.
This even as military lawyers disputed such methods, especially
as the use of such “extreme acts” left soldiers vulnerable to
criminal charges—though, as it has turned out, those who
directed them have not been subject to prosecutions.
Working the “dark side” demands
such hierarchy, so that the U.S. can continue to put on a show
of “justice” and fairness; as Donald Rumsfeld declared following
the exposure of photos from Abu Ghraib, “The world will see how
a democratic system a free system functions and operates,
transparently, with no cover-ups.” The trials that resulted,
however, have covered up all kinds of responsibility, what with
Pfc. Lynndie England sentenced to three years imprisonment
(paroled after 521 days) and Spc. Charles Graner to 10 years. As
the film notes in one of its resonant section titles, England
and Graner were not only “bad apples.” As Spc. Tony Lagouranis,
of Military Intelligence in Iraq, puts it, “Obviously what they
were doing in those pictures was not sanctioned by the military
rules of engagement, and they weren’t interrogators. So yes, I
did think that they were bad apples. However, I also think that
they were taking cues from intel.”
While most charges associated
with the Dilawar and Habibullah cases were dropped, several
soldiers pled guilty or were convicted, including Pfc. Willie
Brand, Spc. Brian Cammack, and Sgt, Anthony Morden (who notes in
the film that this process allowed the Army “to get a public
opinion that they were policing their soldiers"). But such
cases, the movie submits, are only covering up broader policy.
At Bagram, Abu Ghraib, and Guantánamo, the “chain of command”
has not subverted by the use of torture; rather, it has been
reasserted. (here it’s worth noting that, even as some experts
and even some politicians are calling for Guantánamo’s closing,
Bagram is expanding.)
As Rear Admiral John Hutson
describes it, “What starts at the top of the chain of command
drops like a rock down the chain of command, and that’s why
Lynndie England knew what Donald Rumsfeld was thinking without
actually talking to Donald Rumsfeld.” All interviewees in
Taxi assert that torture does not produce useful
intelligence (the most egregious case noted here is that of Abi
Faraj al-Libbi, whose coerced and inaccurate “confession” of
ties between Saddam Hussein and al-Qaeda found its way into
Colin Powell’s infamous speech at the United Nations in 2003).
The film suggests that its pervasiveness in popular culture
(exemplified by scenes from 24) has led to what Alfred
McCoy (A Question of Torture) calls “a constituency for
torture that allows the Bush White House to get away with the
way it twists laws and treaties.” Such twisting is denounced in
the film by lawyers for detainees and former detainee
Moazzam Begg, who recalls “one of the strangest requests”
made to him during his two years detained, namely, that he
identify soldiers who abused Dilawar and agree to testify
against them in court (this while he was unable to get access to
a lawyer or court proceedings for himself; he was released in
2005, under pressure by the British government).
The film includes examples of
other, frankly astounding twists, including the designation of
detainees as NEC (Not Enemy Combatants) or later, NLEC (No
Longer Enemy Combatants), patently senseless labels that turn
time and logic inside out. As Begg’s lawyer, Clive Stafford
Smith, says, NLEC means “We want to say they were guilty to
begin with, but now we’ve had a change of heart, so they’re not
guilty anymore, but we were right in the first place.” Detention
hinges on lack of information: according to Rear Admiral James
McGarrah, of the Office of Administrative Review for Detained
Enemy Combatants, “[Detainees] may not ever know [the evidence
against them], but that doesn’t eliminate the opportunity they
have to make a case for why if they were returned in the future,
why they would not continue to pose a threat.”
All this twisting lays ground
for future problems. According to Jack Cloonan, FBI Special
Agent from 1977-2002, “We don’t know what revenge is coming down
the road.” Indeed, he says, the most effective way to “incite
the faithful” would be to show the photo of England holding the
dog leash, “and just point to that, and look at the young
brothers and say you’re duty-bound now to get revenge.” While
Cloonan here casts blame on the “extreme interrogators,” he also
alludes to what he later calls “a certain level of prejudice,
that this religion and the people who have hijacked it have such
a disregard for life that we turn around and say if they think
so little of life—and clearly, 9/11 exemplified that—screw them.
Anything goes.”
Taxi to the Dark Side
insists on an accounting for this “anything.” And for all its
brilliant dissecting of U.S. policy, practice, and cover-up, it
closes with an effort to make Dilawar visible once again.
Effaced from the trials in which some of his torturers were
named, he is represented here by his family, embodiments of the
“human dignity” and commitment to “inalienable rights” lost
during this long, slow, ongoing journey to the dark side.
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